The Devil's Highway
by beaker67
Summary: The ODYSSEY/ISS series continues. The team is still adjusting to their new member and when she's kidnapped, deaths occur. Updated 11/27/09


ODYSSEY/ISS

An **Odyssey 5** tie-in series

DISCLAIMER: **Odyssey 5 **and its characters are the creative property of Manny Coto, Sony Pictures Television and Showtime Networks. They are used in this series without permission but with love and respect. The use of the names of actual persons is likewise done out of respect for who they are. Any other characters are property of the author's imagination and may not be used without permission.

**Author's Note: **For those who are interested, it might be worthwhile to consult the DVD episode of '**Survivorman**' that deals with the Sonoran desert and the book [which the title of this story also reflects] '**Devil's Highway**' by Luis Alberto Urrea. Both sources helped me to better flesh out the conditions of America's most-deadly desert. The term, _**Devil's Highway**_, is a common one for the region between the Arizona [US] and Mexican border. It refers to the very harsh, arid clime where few who go in ever come out alive.

* * *

**Story 3: The Devil's Highway**

**Johnson Space Center- December 20th, 2002**

The air felt tight inside Cynthia Hodge's office.

She couldn't admit to being happy about being called away from her plans for the impending holiday to meet with two Cadre operatives. Who they discussed was no surprise to any of them. Hodge knew that it wouldn't be the first time that Malinda Flynn's name would be uttered in relation to Cadre affairs.

Flynn had been watched for some time now. The Army might have her, but NASA would be right on its heels once things were settled.

The two men that sat in front of Director Hodge had the distinct look of those who seldom ventured outdoors in the course of a given workday. They were scientists, doctors and their aim had little to do with concerns not in those areas. What they discussed now was to be the first step in a far bigger plan. One that, if successful, would engage the entire Cadre in it.

"So you are saying exactly how long would the Major be down?"

"Given the time span, roughly a few weeks. No more. There is no question that she will return to full capacity. Her evaluations make her recovery almost guaranteed."

One of the men, a Timothy Sparks, spoke with the sort of authority that could come from one very familiar with his field.

Hodge sat back in her chair.

"The last thing the Agency needs is an astronaut unsuited for her work due to 'complications'."

"That is why the Army will be seeing to her needs. NASA need not concern itself, nor bother with her condition. It will be a learning experience for the military, as well as for the Agency."

Hodge sighed. It was unfortunate that such measures had to be employed at all. The best plans of the original Cadre were unraveling. Without quick and decisive intervention, the Sentients and Synths would achieve a foothold very hard to break. They already were very powerful. They had to be stopped.

"When would this start?"

"All you need to do is to type the letter and give it to us. We will take care of the rest."

Hodge looked at the two men and stifled the urge to sigh again. To hear such easy-sounding words coming out of their mouths always made her skeptical of any success until it actually happened. It would take some deft maneuvers to not set off Flynn's apprehension or distrust of what would be contained in such a document.

"I approve. Allow me a few minutes to draft what you need."

* * *

**December 29****th**

The party at Kurt's was changed from its original form.

The original form was for it to be a gathering of friends and families. With Mark Taggart's death, things changed. The 'Odyssey 6' gathered together to enjoy each other's company. Especially since most people who had dealings with any of them were very few and those who honestly liked them were a bit less than that.

Kurt Mendel had his work cut out for him in trying to satisfy what was mostly more basic tastes than he normally enjoyed. Suffice to say, he never voiced how he had to 'dumb down' some of the recipes to suit some tastebuds. He wasn't terribly happy about the salmon from Washington; it had been the one item that almost flew off the platter as soon as he set it out. To watch nearly five pounds of quality, smoked salmon get eaten was almost painful.

Mali Flynn watched him with some amusement.

She had spent literal days- as a sniper- in the field watching the comings and goings of enemy soldiers. Watched them eating, drinking, smoking, shitting, sleeping and- sometimes- even having sex. To watch Kurt's silent consternation at most of his portion of the salmon going down oral cavities- never to be seen again- was something she found entertaining. It was not that she deliberately enjoyed going off and watching by herself. It was, simply, that she fell into it.

Dinner was well done.

Where Kurt had picked up the prime rib was unknown. That it was from a quality steer showed in the taste. It was not often that ten pounds of prime grass-fed found itself divided and onto their plates but it was enough to make Mali, Angela and Sarah look at the 'men' about the table and share silent glances of _'we must be eating with Neanderthals, ladies'_.

Beef was something Mali seldom ate. It wasn't the animal rights angle. It was the fact she couldn't digest it easily. Then too, food had been a problem since her 'return'. She was more likely to down a bottle of Ensure than to honestly try to eat real food on many occasions. It was something that Chuck Taggart was starting to worry about.

When the meal finally got around to dessert, Kurt had Angela help him and they went off to the kitchen. The rest were adamantly told to stay seated. When they brought out a chocolate birthday cake loaded with candles, Mali could only raise her eyebrows.

"Behold what a little internet snooping can do when other avenues fail!"

Kurt said as Angela set the cake down in front of Mali.

"God, four days after Christmas. How many people recalled that when you were a kid?"

Sarah asked.

Mali shook her head.

"Not many. I got gypped out of birthday parties at school and got 'double duty' gifts."

"Shit, that's cold."

Neil said.

"Damn right. Its called 'El Cheapo' economics, parent-style."

Mali looked at the cake and smiled. The candles were many, and burning well.

"Anybody like roasty-toasty chocolate?"

"Blow the thing out before we need the extinguisher!"

Taggart said, having lit his after dinner cigar.

"Or the Fire Department!"

Sarah joined in.

"Damn little patience in this crowd."

Mali's face shed its smile for a moment. Then blew the candles out. The smoke went up to mingle with that from Chuck's cigar.

"Well, the ganache didn't melt."

Kurt said approvingly.

"Small pieces, I trust?"

"Damn right. After the feed we had."

Taggart said, his eyes glanced at Mali for a moment. She hadn't eaten much, but it was more than most other times. Which was to say that she didn't indulge in any extra helpings. Unlike the rest of them. The rest had gone through more food than an astronaut would eat after coming back from the strict rations of a Shuttle or ISS mission.

He had little trouble ever looking at her. Would have liked nothing better than to have bedded her Christmas night, after Jenny and Neil had gone to sleep.

They both, however, knew better than to act so precipitously. The feelings were there, but they both knew things were not at that stage quite yet. If things went sour, it would ruin everything that had been gained. Neither of them wished that.

"I'll say, nearly all of my salmon is gone."

Kurt added.

The rest of the group made mock crying sounds, save for Mali who looked at him. Seemed used to these displays, even if she couldn't quite like it.

"Quit your bitching. I'll have more sent down if you're so put out."

"Not 'put out', darling. Its just that its killer on fresh bagels with cream cheese in the morning."

Kurt called from the kitchen and brought his favorite knife back

"So, did your family celebrate birthdays much?"

Angela asked Mali. She'd seen how her Commander looked at Flynn. Felt a bit jealous of the attention this 'new' person to their group was getting.

"My parents were of the opinion that birthday celebrations were a waste of money and time."

"Geez. That must have been a wonderful, cozy feeling."

Sarah added.

Mali nodded as she cut slices.

"Can't say that most of my family was normal, in that respect. We were all pretty independent. I am glad, however, that you folks chose to not forget. By the way, Neil, was it courtesy of - a.k.a. the NASA personnel files- that you landed my info?"

Neil grinned. He would never admit to guilt openly.

Mali caught it.

"Bastard."

"Call it 'thanks for the Christmas geode'."

Neil replied, taking a fork and looking at the piece of cake she cut.

Mali handed it to him.

"Here you are, growing boy."

"You gave Neil a geode for Christmas? Where the hell is mine?"

Kurt's tone was almost one of interrogation. Good-natured, of course.

"I only had three of them with me."

"So Chuck, Neil and..."

Kurt began.

"Aunt Jenny."

Neil finished, before attacking his cake. Soon his mouth was crammed and silent.

"So you ignored me to grace 'Aunt Jenny' with a geode?"

"She cooked her ass off for Christmas. I felt it right."

Mali handed pieces, quite a bit smaller, to Sarah and Angela. There was more to it, but elaboration wasn't needed. It had been a peace offering to a woman who looked on her little better than an interloper in the Taggart home. Especially the chilly send-off where 'Aunt Jen' knew her brother was falling for a woman she personally distrusted.

"Now I **am** hurt."

Kurt said, mock-sad.

Mali smiled to herself and shook her head.

"Too bad, so sad."

Kurt cut Chuck's piece, after getting the knife back from her.

"So what did your parents do?"

Angela asked, as Kurt got up to get coffee for all of them once the pieces had all been cut..

"My parents were military. My Mother worked deep in the Pentagon and my Dad was in the Submarine Service.."

"Was he a Captain?"

Sarah asked.

"No. He was, literally, a sub driver. A helmsman. Was in it for twenty years. They both met at a Navy function in New London. During the Cold War in the 50s. My mother knew Admiral Hyman Rickover and my Dad certainly thought old Hyman had taste."

"Your Mom must've had some contacts back then."

Chuck asked. He had never heard of Mali's past before now. Found it fascinating.

"Did. It all ended when she got married and became a mother in the late 60s, when I was born. I'm inclined to think she missed it: the whirl and excitement of being in Washington. They moved to Omaha and I was raised there."

"She certainly loved your Dad, though? Didn't she?"

Sarah responded.

"Most definitely. Enough to stick with him, even after being sent to the middle of the country, far from the ocean."

Mali cut into the thin sliver for herself. She really wasn't up to eating it but, for the sake of the others, she would take small bites.

"Let us eat cake!"

Kurt set down a cup of Kona coffee beside Mali. His emphasis on Mali being allowed to eat some of her birthday cake was noted. Silence descended on the group again.

* * *

They walked out to their cars in the cold, night air.

Mali found herself shuddering under her leather jacket as she let Neil get in the backseat of the Mustang. It wasn't the first time that she wanted to be in the car and, much as she didn't want to admit it, near to Chuck. She didn't mind having him around more now.

"Hey, Happy Birthday!"

Sarah said, giving her a hug.

"Hope Corey gets better."

Mali looked at the woman and could see the anxiety hidden under a brave front. She smiled and patted Sarah's shoulder. Saw Angela come up, without her outer coat.

"Going to help Kurt clean up the disaster?"

"Eh, I get paid in salmon for it."

Angela said lightly. Then cocked her head up to one to the open windows to Kurt's loft.

"No, you won't!"

Kurt's voice came out as an echo. He'd opened one of his loft windows to dip in on the conversation.

"If you say that you do, again, I'll lock you out!"

"Ah, the words of a consummate gentleman, Angela."

Mali and Angela smiled and hugged briefly. Before they all bid each other good night.

* * *

"Shit, I think I need a wheelchair when we get home."

Chuck commented as the city streets of Houston flew past. He was in a hurry to get in a shower and hit the sack. He had to pay a visit to NASA in the morning. Before the place went skeleton-crew for New Year's. The thought of having Mali in bed with him wasn't far from his mind. He had no doubt that would happen soon, if he could bide his time.

"That was sweet. That you guys remembered my birthday."

"We thought about doing things sooner. When you had deployment looming."

Taggart said, his eyes scanning the dark road ahead. It almost had the feeling of the Shuttle cockpit with just the three of them there.

"Don't remind me. Its my last night of freedom before I return to the Hive."

Mali said, before covering a yawn with her hand. She'd never admit it, but she was feeling a bit off.

"Hodge's Hive. Now there's a notion not worth pondering on too long."

Taggart muttered. Mali got the news, to return to NASA, the day after Christmas. He was at least glad she wasn't getting shipped out overseas. He had seen the NASA letter- and the distinctive letterhead- on the desk in Mark's room. He didn't touch it, though. He knew what it was without his even having to look at it. It was the sort of thing he doubted Hodge would ever have sent to him- the call back to serve.

"You both sound so wonderfully upbeat about actually going to work. Now you know how I feel about having to go back to High School."

Neil said, before yawning and stretching out in the back seat

"High School is a way different level of torment than NASA."

Mali corrected, then looked back at him.

"I do need to get you watching '_Mystery Science Theater 3000_'."

"And what good would that do?"

"It is, in its own way, a commentary on the stupidity you'll occasionally encounter at the Agency."

Mali said and saw Taggart smile knowingly.

"Such as?"

Neil asked.

"Self-absorbed twits on ego-trips."

Chuck offered, recalling Hodge all too clearly as being separated from the petty-tyrant-bitch character on the show at birth.

"Bizarre explanations for the fucking obvious. The inept being given jobs they will never, **ever** be suited for."

" See? There's many ways, and more, that you can be educated **and** get in a bad, b-movie at the same time."

Mali looked at Chuck. Had wondered if Mr. 'Old School' would have watched such a program.

"You mean to say that Chuck Taggart actually watches that show?"

"When I'm an insomniac, at times."

He recalled Paige chiding him for staying up too late. On more than one occasion.

"Eh, another man with good taste in programming. He's not just a viewer, he's also an astronaut!"

Mali said, in her best TV-sales-pitch tone.

They all went quiet as they came up and saw the squad cars, fire trucks and flares out on the road. Three cars were badly smashed up. Shivering victims stood off to the side, bathed in the lights of the squads. A body, covered by a white sheet, was being lifted onto a gurney.

A policeman waved them past, eager to get them gone from any gawking.

"Hmm, demo derby night."

Neil commented.

"Somebody will be hating their next car insurance bill, that's for sure."

Taggart added.

"Not to mention the funeral costs, hospital bills, and lawsuits."

Mali chose to stay quiet. Said nothing about the bullet holes she'd seen in the side of one of the cars. Her formerly content mood evaporated into a faint apprehension about going back to NASA. She knew exactly what they would be having her do. Even if they would never openly say it. Something that had to do with bullets and death, again.

* * *

**Earlier that evening-**

The underground bar called 'TekNo" was the sort of place not commonly known about. Like most underground establishments, it thrived on more hidden than open money. Like the speakeasies of old, TekNo catered to a crowd with the money to spare and the ability to keep things quiet.

It was known that a different element was fond of coming in of late. With the money and the entre' from the owner, these certain people set up their laptops and set up shop. Gambling via internet turned lucrative. So much so that, to preserve some sense of TekNo having to run a legitimate business, it had to be moved into a back room.

The organization that ran the laptops didn't mind. Their business suffered nothing. Indeed, it boomed. The clientele was non-stop. The Synths were doing great business and raking in money they needed to run things. Even artificial life needed money to survive in the organic world. Until they predominated lifeforms, they had to work within the framework of organic human government and their way of doing things. Not everything fell into their laps.

"Big C" [alias Clifford Humes] was the sort of person who used his influence and connections to get where he wanted to go in life. Had his fingers in many pies and very near all were illegal. He lived rich and high and, the world of gaming at TekNo had hooked him in. It was when he got in too deep that his situation became tenuous. He might have been a pimp daddy to many and able to smooze his way through a lot of shit, but he didn't count on those who didn't buy the jive and dealing when he couldn't ante up on his bills. When he welched on the gamers at TekNo, he was signing his own death warrant. Synths certainly couldn't give shit less about somebody like "Big C".

Humes had come into TekNo with his thugs after a particularly unsavory letter showed up at his office in a run-down section of Houston. A letter that essentially said 'pay up, now". They tried to bust up the dark, pretentious club where nearly everyone wore black and, when they weren't sucking your money away, they could've given a shit less if you lived or died.

He shot his mouth off and his thugs threw their weight around. No way in hell were they going to pay shit, except when they decided to. They wouldn't be pushed by anybody. Then his people began to die.

"Big C" and his two lieutenants booked out of there and to their Escalade. Booked out and got followed by two black sedans. Almost got away when their tires blew out on the freeway in the course of a rolling gunfight. The Escalade smashed into two cars near it and skidded to a stop. Its occupants were dead, save for one. The passengers in the other vehicles were bashed-up, but survived. The authorities came and things were getting cleaned up.

The through-traffic crept by, among them a powder-blue Mustang that rolled past then sped up to get home before the hour got too late.

Humes died. One of the others died as well. His one lieutenant lived- by a thread.

* * *

The nightmare always began innocently enough.

The house was dark and silent in the dead of night. Nothing moved. Nothing broke the stillness. Then the wind came up. The clouds got obscured by stars and the trees rustled. Then the wind blew and the clouds thickened. Their interplay with the air made them begin to glow. Then the pain in the ears began. If you got up, you could look out a window and see glowing clouds slowly circulating above. Felt the suction that sucked open unlatched doors and tried to suck curtains through screening. You might have thought it was a tornado except for the deathly silence, apart from the wind. No sirens, no warnings, not noticed by many if any.

You could pad out onto, say, a balcony. Look out, across a narrow street and see no trace of life. Then the sound began. An almost inaudible hum that turned into a high-pitched, wailing screech. The type of screech that infested your ears and couldn't be blocked out. Within the screech were sub-tones. A type of code barely audible in the din. A morse code of distress, of pain, of disbelief.

The screech kept getting ever louder until, when your body had enough of it, it woke you up.

You were back in your bed. You had never moved from it. Never saw the big, sucking cyclone in the sky that made no sound but sucked at you anyway. Wanting to lift you out of your dwelling and cast you someplace that you never wanted to be. Not unless you had a way of getting down.

Mali's teeth hurt when she awoke.

She had gritted that hard. The insides of her ears felt the sharp, searing pain. The sound of silence in the Taggart house was almost overwhelming. She looked about Mark's room a moment to get her bearings. If she could, within ten minutes she might be able to get up and walk to the hall bathroom to grab some aspirin and not wake somebody with her being a noisy clod. She never could negotiate her feet well after one of these dreams. Back in St. Mark's she would have had no problem crawling to the bathroom but, despite her knowing Neil and Chuck, she dared not do it here. Her throbbing, hurting eardrums would have to wait a little.

The dark world sounded like one huge hum as she kept taking in Mark's room.

She never had this nightmare often. Alcohol was not to blame, nor was there any one, damning factor that brought it on. She hadn't had one of these in ages. The last time had been in the old time stream. Which was just as well, since her hearing might cause trouble if it came at the wrong time.

She became aware of herself and the bedsheets being soaked. Was a bit startled at the reaction her body had. When she tried to move the fabric from her she found herself weak and barely able to move. Then the nausea began and churned her stomach. The food from the party never had gone down. The feeling was ominous. If she didn't get to the bathroom on the double it would get messy. The world swirled when she got on her feet. Staggered, opened the door, staggered some more. Got to the bathroom, and toilet, in time.

* * *

Having raised two sons, Chuck Taggart knew the sound of somebody being sick. Hell, he knew that from drinking parties in college and the Air Force. In short, he knew the situation damn well. A young man could never go through that age and not get sick at some point in it.

There was no way to really avoid it, when it happened. It never creeped him out like it had Paige. She could clean up after it very well, but the check-ins were usually done by him. This time was no exception. The only odd thing was that when he went down the hall was that he expected to see Neil. The kid had truly eaten like a damn pig last night. Damned teenagers with metabolisms in the stratosphere were also prone to paying for being pigs, on occasion..

What he never expected, when he flicked on the bathroom light, was seeing Mali leaning against the toilet.. Pale as death, sweating, and with blood coming out of her ears. She only wore a sweat soaked t-shirt and shorts that seemed glued to her. Her shaking hand paused to flush the toilet as her cheek laid against the cool porcelain, leaving a bloody streak and drips down the outside. Taggart saw the drips of blood on the floor and knew that both her ears were bleeding from the inside. The sides of her face were smeared with blood.

He turned back to see Neil come into the hallway. The kid was still half-asleep, in his boxers. Had the look of somebody not expecting to get woken up. Taggart had to give the kid credit that it hadn't taken an Atom bomb to achieve it.

"Get some clothes on. She needs to get to the hospital."

Mali heaved some more as Taggart came in. He bent down and touched her shoulder. Felt it shuddering beneath his touch. That she was sick as dog now disturbed him. It had been only hours since they'd been at Kurt's. Something in his mind made him wonder if Kurt hadn't tried yet another 'experiment'. The thought got stomped by the immediate need in front of him. Kurt knew better than to risk his own life by trying such a stunt.

Chuck leaned next to her ear so she might be able to hear him.

"Let me get dressed. It'll be a minute. You're going to the hospital. Just hang in there."

He had no idea if she even heard him. He stood and went back to the bedroom. The blood coming from her ears was not a good sign. It could keep her out of the astronaut program altogether if it wasn't treatable. The ability to have perfect hearing was crucial. It was something none of them could afford was to have her be dismissed from the Agency. She had to get into space in nearly five years time. Aside from that, the fact of what was going on scared the shit out of him. He'd never seen such a condition before. At least, not outside the Air Force and high-altitude training. Had little doubt that this condition was not a result of normal illness.

He returned to the doorway, after pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Saw the blood on her jaw and coming out from her ears. The sight sickened him anew.

Neil really seemed to see it, standing in the doorway.

"Holy shit!"

"Stay with her."

Taggart said, going downstairs to get a few things and get the car ready.

* * *

**General Houston Hospital**

Taggart held off calling any of the group. The time was simply too early in the morning

Mali had been taken in immediately to an ER pod, but Neil and he were consigned to the waiting room for not being family or relatives. By silent consensus, they would remain until they got some clue of what was wrong then would head home. Until then, they explored what might be wrong, when they weren't dozing or wishing desperately for cups of coffee to stay awake. Tried hard to not unfold the blanket they'd wrapped her in and sleep in the chairs, even if it was bloodied in places. Taggart's shirt still had the bloodstains from where her head was when he'd carried her out of the house. She couldn't even get onto her feet, much less sit up without aid. He would have never guessed that one hundred and ninety pounds could feel so light as he carried her down the stairs.

Taggart was convinced that the Cadre, as much as they might have said otherwise, really did want her dead. Certainly wondered if there wasn't something that would have poisoned her among her possessions. It made him want to hop in the Mustang and get home, then get to the JSC and throttle shit out of Hodge and her whole, Cadre gang.

Still, he refused to leave until a doctor at least came out and spoke to them. Of course, that had been three hours ago when they brought her in. In the meantime, they had to endure the wait of waiting with the ill that came in and the families who were in as unknowing a situation as they were.

"I'm shocked that Kurt hasn't called yet. Usually we get the happy call about this time."

Neil commented, looking on his cell's screen for messages.

"He's probably still moaning over all the salmon we ate last night."

Taggart commented sourly. He watched a few ER nurses circulate behind the admission desks. One of them had to know something. He stilled his impulse to get up and walk into the ER. In the days after 9/11, you were liable to get tasered by security for doing such a thing.

He finally did look up and saw two nurses talking. They were looking at them, then turned away.

Taggart saw one of them nod and leave. The other nurse walked out towards them.

"Commander Taggart."

The nurse came to a stop in front of them.

Taggart stood up to face her. He was tired of sitting.

"We are in the process of transferring Major Flynn to another hospital. She has indicated that she wants to see you before she leaves. You'll only have a few minutes."

"Where is she being taken to?"

"We can't say. It is a... _private_ hospital."

The woman turned so they could follow her.

The walked past the barriers, past the pods and their sick and injured people, past all the pain and grief. Taggart did have an honest thought that it would be good for her to get out of here.

They finally came to a stop and the nurse pulled the curtain aside.

At least they cleaned her up.

"Just a few minutes, folks."

The nurse said, before pulling the curtain shut behind them.

She was still sweaty, pale, and had a huge IV bag attached to her. Her hair was plastered to her scalp and her ears were stuffed with cotton and taped down. They seemed to get the vomiting under control. Her eyes came open when she heard movement near her. Looked up at him, watched his mouth move. Shook her head and weakly pointed to her ear.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

Taggart saw her beckon him closer with her hand. He leaned in closer.

"I'm not contagious. I'm going to a military hospital. I've left a directive for you to be able to see me and be my power-of-attorney. They hate it, but I want it. All my family is dead."

She rasped.

"What hospital?"

He said, close to her ear.

"Don't know. They won't say. In state, hopefully."

Actually, they did say what hospital. She just didn't want him to know. Chuck would not have liked it, if he were to know. Maybe later.

Taggart backed away slightly and saw her grin. Seemed to want him to be hopeful. It was the only thing she could do. The rest of her was damned ill.

"Don't worry. I'm durable."

Mali said and gripped his hand. There wasn't much strength in it. Still, she wanted to reassure him.

"Cadre can't kill me yet. I'm too...important."

Taggart smiled back as the curtains opened and he stood up. Left her hand back at her side.

"OK, guys, we have to take her out of here."

They turned as a nurse led them out and back into the waiting room. She left them out there without another word. It was only when they went outside that they heard a chopper powering up. Taggart looked around for the landing pad. Found it off on the other side of the hospital.

"You think she's being taken out of town?"

Neil asked, watching the pad with him.

"Very likely. NASA always does things like this through the military."

Especially if the person was military. Active or not, the military took care of its own in the Agency. Taggart knew that very well.

They watched for a few minutes, until a gurney came out and the crew about it loaded its patient aboard. Taggart had no doubt that Flynn was aboard. He watched the chopper lift off and felt tears come into his eyes. It was hard to not feel something when one of them lifted off, taking somebody to help with it. Turned his eyes from watching it into the distance. He already saw its path to the northwest.

"Let's get home."

* * *

"It is the best thing to do, really."

Kurt said, as they went through the room. It might have once been Mark's. Now, however, it had become Mali's. In more ways than one. Everybody in the group had seen the way Chuck had taken to her. Especially when they were all at dinner last night. Taggart could barely tear his eyes from her. It was quite obvious that feelings were there.

"It keeps the Synths from her anyway."

"That's the first nice thing you've said this morning, Kurt. Keep it up."

Taggart muttered as he looked at the bloodied pillows. The bedding was toast. He wouldn't chance trying to wash it and getting her reinfected once she got back. Took a step forward and heard a crunch of paper under his foot. Bent to pick it up and dropped it again in horror. His fingers had a white powder on the fingertips. He looked down to see the NASA letterhead. It was Hodge's reacceptance letter to get Mali back into the organization. The envelope was still on the desk. It had blown off.

Kurt saw it and came over. Saw the powder on Taggart's fingers.

"Don't touch it again. Is there a tweezers anywhere?"

"Neil!"

Taggart shouted, using his 'command' voice. Neil was downstairs getting together a pail of soap water to clean the bathroom floor. It would take a scrubbrush to get up the dried blood.

Not to mention that the hall carpet would need to be steam-cleaned of the bloody footprints. Neither Neil or he really cared about the tracks they left last night.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Get a tweezers and a Ziploc from the kitchen! A big one!"

"Roger that!"

"Kid acts like he's in NASA already."

Kurt quipped, looked at Taggart. The fearless Commander was spooked.

"Wash your hands. Hot water and soap. Bleach rinse, if you got it."

Taggart looked at his hands. Almost like they were infested.

"Yeah."

* * *

Kurt had to do a double take at what he saw through his microscope.

It was damn good and could see things like this. He still was at a loss to explain exactly what it was, though. Aside from being the obvious vector that made Mali ill.

"It's like a virus, yet it isn't."

He sat up and sat back.

"The good news is, it isn't contagious, because its dead. It still has some very unusual properties to it. I could wish to sneak into Fort Detrick or someplace far better than my loft, but that it far from an option. Its very odd."

"How so?"

Angela asked, standing behind him.

"It resembles Ebola on many levels. When this stuff was active it was very virulent. The fact it was on paper indicates, to me, that one needed to touch it for it to be transmitted. Its not able to be airborne. It really does resemble that pathogen."

"Exposure to air?"

Neil suggested.

"Very possible, young Einstein. Its likely what ultimately killed it. The lining in the envelope is quite...unusual. The hemorrhaging out of her ears was another point that caught me as well."

Kurt looked up at Chuck.

"I'm going to take this to a friend of mine. Too bad I can't get a fresh sample of her blood to look at."

"Good luck on that count, brother. If she's gone to a military hospital there is no good way to do that. Not with the security at all bases now."

Taggart held up the empty envelope in the Ziploc. The lining Kurt spoke of really wasn't that noticeable.

"Its like those places went paranoid after 9/11. Now its standard procedure to have a suspicion about everybody."

Angela said. She was grilled, even though she was retired Air Force now.

"Do you know where she's going?"

"No. Likely some place where they know a fuck of a lot more than '_shoot-em-up General_'."

Taggart said. The tootsie-pop in his mouth subbed for breakfast. Kurt really had frowned on his cigars being smoked in his loft. Wouldn't have minded reefer smoke, though.

"I have to stay close to my cell phone to find out."

"If they'll let her call out."

Angela looked over at him. She felt a mix of feelings looking at him. The mix, though, was not like what she felt for Enrique. That was quite different. She sure as hell didn't want to see her Commander hurt. What Taggart said next drove its own needle into her heart.

"They won't. However, she listed me as her 'next of kin'. So, there will be a phone call."

* * *

Sarah drove Angela back to her place before driving back to KNBS. She was already late, but Troy wouldn't mind. He certainly understood that she had things going on in her life. The biggest thing she regretted was being stuck with Paul. Then again, being in a car right now with Angela was proving a challenge of its own.

"I really don't see why you have a problem with this. If they do have something going on, so what?"

"Its just so sudden."

Angela said, looking pensively out the window. It was hard to explain the muddle in her thoughts. In many ways, Chuck Taggart was the substitute for the father she never had. Brian Perry was too busy being a politician to truly be a parent. He never wanted to be around in Angela's life- except when she was a success. When she made astronaut she never forgot the crowing about what a great dad he'd been to foster her love of spaceflight. Truth was, Angela had set her sights while in the Air Force. To have Chuck Taggart's support had been a comfort when it seemed many in NASA would have loved to walk over her to get ahead.

"And your relations with Enrique Pena isn't?"

"Sarah, what I'm saying is look how short a time Paige has been dead. He hasn't even flipped over that 'Penny' chick the way he's doing over Flynn. Hell, he never even gave that woman a second look after Flynn came here."

Sarah looked at Angela Perry hard.

The insinuation that Chuck Taggart was that cold-hearted was a bit shocking for her to hear. Especially coming from Angela. The same Angela Perry who revered Chuck Taggart as if he were a living deity. The same Angela Perry who had been saved by the man during a routine, spacewalk.

"You know, you sound an awful lot like a protective- or **jealous**- female just now. Penny was turned into a Synth. She was also a hell-fired bitch. We all know that for a fact. Personally, I'm glad Flynn came when she did. Otherwise, Chuck might not be with us anymore."

Angela gave Sarah a look. Even if she was right, it was still galling.

"He's my Commander, alright? He's saved my ass on more than one count. I wouldn't even be here if not for him! I'm sorry if I'm not gushing over her."

Sarah honestly wondered why Angela had put up such a nice front last night.

"Pause to recall that your ass wouldn't be here either if Mali hadn't found any of you at Trinity River. The possibility of her being there is what brought in the Cadre to kill the Synths that had you all held prisoner. Her being there also saved you."

"And you don't think it's a coincidence?"

"No, honestly I don't. I am inclined to believe her. Angela, Mali was once a Synth herself. She was part of a world for years that we're only beginning to understand. She had the same MIDI code file we all had. Nobody, outside of our group, would ever have something like that. I'm willing to cut her slack. If she was anything else, we'd have discovered it before now."

Sarah looked at Angela again before her sight returned to the road. Changed the subject.

"How is Enrique, by the way?"

Angela shook her head. Almost didn't want to speak about the man. His machismo was enough to make her bolt.. She kept it neutral. The last time they had sex, it was made plain who liked to be in control of it all. It wasn't her.

"He wants me to go with him to spring training. I would but I don't know what plans NASA has. Especially once 'Columbia' goes up....and comes back down."

_I won't be happy to report that story._

Sarah thought.. The need to voice that sentiment was simply not there. It didn't need to be.

* * *

**Johnson Space Center-**

Chuck Taggart walked the halls of the JSC and made sure to stop in at mission control. Watched the screens and listened to the buzz. Even if there wasn't a space shuttle up there, other projects were going on. He looked around at the people and thought how few real old-timers were here now. Ed Scrivens' death had been a blow in more than one way. It was men like him who held the vision for the manned part of NASA. With him gone now, the dream..and hope.. of NASA was dying for manned flights.

"Hey Chuck!"

Taggart turned to see Bernie MacDonald smile and wave.

"Well, hell, there's a face I know!"

He walked up to his old shuttle partner who was now flying one of the consoles. The man had little chance of seeing the inside of a shuttle after his minor stroke of a few years ago. One side of the man's face was only mildly paralyzed. Taggart was surprised that Hodge hadn't given Bernie the boot for the crime of being sick beyond his control.

"Listen, I heard about Paige. I'm sorry I didn't make it to her funeral. I heard it was really beautiful, like she was. Then your son, Mark. Damn, that's some shit."

"Thanks for the thought, Bern. Yes, it is."

"How you holding up?"

"I'm alright. Just trying to take it a day at a time now. Maybe getting back here will do some good."

"So that's what brings you here? Don't tell me Hodge might actually have wanted you here."

Bernie said, in a quieter tone as he gestured to an empty seat beside him.

"Nah. Just nosing around. Trying to keep my mind off of things ."

"Hey, you hear what happened to Cliff Parks?"

"I've been out of the loop. What?"

Damn straight he'd been 'out of the loop'. He was on the Cadre/Hodge shitlist. Agency news dried up when you were on it. With the way they felt about him, it would be a miracle if Neil got into space, ever.

"Pissed off Hodge something fierce. He was found carting off computer files, after work. Found his trunk loaded with it."

"What sort of files?"

"They say it was 'low-sec' files. I don't buy it. He had access into some mighty classified stuff. She canned him, he left, and hasn't been seen since. Then he was found dead two days ago and his house got ransacked."

"Didn't he have a place in town here?"

"Did, but it was more of a crash pad. His main place was down in McAllen. After Judy died, he really did want to get back down there but didn't want to leave I.T. . The mess was found there. All the NASA files were gone."

"Shit."

"God, you should've seen Hodge. She was blowing off at everyone and everything. Hey, by the way, rumor has that Flynn's come back into the ISS program."

"Yeah."

"Wonder if she's recovered from going ape and booking out."

"I know she's back. That's all I know."

_Going ape?_ Taggart knew that line of bullshit was pure rumor. BAD rumor.

"Hodge's little pet comes back like the 'prodigal son'."

"How do you reason that Flynn is Hodge's pet?"

"Shit, Chuck, you know the way she had Ed Scrivens about her finger. Any damn assignment she wanted she got. Hell, that bitch bumped out more deserving astronauts than she ever was."

"Come on now, Bernie. She's a damn good astronaut. You and I both know that. Besides, I've never seen where she was licking Hodge's boots like some of the types in here, or at the Cape."

Hell, she never had even licked Ed's boots that he heard of.

"Well, I'll tell you, there's a few who aren't happy to see her back."

Taggart kept his mouth shut to that. It would be interesting to know exactly who was having trouble with her being back. If it was honest anger or simple jealousy. To walk and snoop a bit more would be of note. He never bought into a lot of JSC gossip, but this was getting thick.

* * *

**1200 Hours- KNBS Studios**

Sarah found herself looking over the proposed stories for the evening newscast and watched the noon broadcast going on outside the glass, soundproof walls of her office right next to the studio.

She could hear the broadcast over the system as she scanned the sheets that would help her with the more set stories once the 6:00 Newscast came around.

Sarah heard a pause in the newscaster's speech and looked up, out the windows of her office. The man was looking at the teleprompter like a newbie. Then she heard him speak.

"_This news has just come into KNBS- A MedLife helicopter has crashed roughly 50 miles east of El Paso. It was carrying a patient from Houston to the Beaumont Army Medical Center at Fort Bliss. It had refueled in Dallas and was heading west when it went down on the eastern edge of the Hueco Mountains. Due to the rough terrain, authorities are still en-route. We will have more updates as they become available."_

She could taste dust in her mouth and smell the char in her nose. She felt like she was falling, yet was not. The memory of the sick spiral down and the noise of the alarms in her ears were still with her.

Her right hand, the one that held the IV needle hurt. She wanted to pull it in but worried about pulling at the needle. She slightly moved her wrist but could feel no tug. It had come out.

Mali wanted to open her gritty eyes. They hurt to even move the lids. When she could see the blurry world beyond, the world wobbled. Wherever she was she was still attached to the gurney they loaded her on the chopper with. She heard the sounds of a fire behind her. Some of the acrid smoke drifted over her, then faded off. Heard the sound of a car driving up. By the rumble, sounded like a 4x4 or other off-road vehicle.

She'd seen the dry landscape of West Texas float by when they were airborne. Had just come into the Panhandle when the chopper began to buck and shake. Then had been lucky to not see it come up rapidly as the craft went down. Then her world had gone black.

Her eyes tried to open as she heard the engine cut off. A lone vehicle: no sirens, no noise, no calls to her, or others. Not EMTs or Law Enforcement. All she saw was a blur and shut her eyes again.

_Not good._

Then she heard the Synth chirps and gibberish that doubled for speech in some cases.

_No fucking good at all._

She heard footsteps come up and feigned being knocked out. Felt herself come onto her back as the gurney was set right once more. The hot sun beat down on her face. It was a struggle to not groan in pain or manifest wakefulness Tried not wince as a needle pricked into her arm.

As soon as it hit, she needed to fake unconsciousness no longer.

* * *

**Fort Bliss, Texas**

General Dwight Pierce heard the news and sat, in silence, for some time after it had come to him.

His office was shielded from the afternoon sun and was warm and quiet. The faintest sounds of his secretary was audible outside his door. His aide-de-camp was away on business elsewhere. One of the perks of having four stars, not just one.

That Flynn was sick from the 'vaccination' was to be expected. That the chopper went down- with her on it- was not. He looked at the video monitor on his desk. The other end of the line was in the dash of the lead, military humvee that led the contingent from local Law Enforcement.

A humvee now at the crash site on the east side of the Hueco Range. The El Paso County Sheriff also had his boys in there to help out. Everybody in the region had converged there.

The face of the young, Army lieutenant was cool and professional. The group had been through enough of the site to give him an initial appraisal of what happened.

"Sir, only three bodies are inside the wreckage. We have found a totally-charred, empty stretcher. It was still smoldering when we first arrived. We have also found tire tracks coming into and leaving the site. Our vehicles obliterated some of it, but we have enough to establish that the vehicle is a domestic make."

"You are confirming, then, that Major Flynn's body is not in the wreckage?"

"Yessir, that is affirmative."

_Goddamn Synths!_

Pierce thought. Saw the Lieutenant pause.

"Sir, what do you want done with the media?"

"Christ, they aren't at the site are they?"

"No sir. They are being...difficult. We've had to scare off several of their news helicopters already. The local agencies have kept them off of the site. They are lined up back at a county road about four miles away."

Pierce paused to consider as he sat back in his padded chair.

"What is **obvious** is what to tell them. The helicopter crashed. There was loss of life. Keep their whirlybirds out of there!"

He thought for a moment about Flynn. To say she was dead would be hard to explain if indeed she was found. To say she was taken to a hospital would likewise be false and found out. The only option was the truth.

" To the local police and Sheriffs, say that one on board was abducted from the scene. Inform the local agencies to put out their 'All Points Bulletin' on Major Malinda Flynn. You'll have her stats to give them. Also state that she is an active-duty soldier and very ill. Whoever has her might kill her if they keep her from medical attention too long. She **must** be located and brought back. "

"Yessir. Do you want news agencies informed as well?"

"No. Let's keep them away from dramatizing the hell out of this. The Public doesn't need to know. You have your orders, Lieutenant. That is all."

The young officer nodded curtly and the transmission ended.

Pierce sat back in his chair.

_The Goddamn Synths!_

He seriously wished they could do 'open season' on every last one of them- without worry of the LEOs, the media, or the public seeing what was going on. They had dared to fuck with something they should not have. The only thing that was reassuring was that Flynn had been 'inoculated' just in time. If whoever had her were Synth in composition they would soon regret it. What protected her would never allow a Synth to live.

* * *

**1437 Hours**

When the Mustang finally did pull into the driveway and disgorge Chuck Taggart, it let out somebody who honestly did not want to see NASA for a while. He'd looked over the primary and back-up crew assignments for the next, four Shuttle missions and he wasn't on any of them- not even as a back-up. He did look over to assignments for the ISS and saw something that truly did get his attention- Mali was due to go up on a rocket to be part of 'Expedition 8'. She was slated to be gone for six months- October of '03 to April of '04. She would be coming down, again, by rocket. No Shuttle would be due to fly until 2005. He wasn't even listed for the ISS, just for shits and giggles. Hodge and the Cadre seriously wanted him to stay on the ground. Not even Angela was going up anytime soon. Her recent training had been a waste of time when she wasn't even slated to be going up.

He saw Neil come out of the kitchen the moment he stepped in the door. The TV was going. More as background noise than being actually watched.

"Dad, where were you?"

"What 'where was I'? I was at the JSC, where the fuck do you think I was?"

Neil paused. No, don't rise to it. Go around it.

"Have you seen the news?"

The change in tack made Chuck pause. The kid was serious. He took off his jacket and settled it on a chair back.

"No, why?"

"A medical chopper went down in West Texas. They say there were casualties. Sarah called two hours ago with the news. Said it was enroute to Fort Bliss and the Army Medical Center there."

Taggart's blue eyes flickered.

"And you didn't come get me?!"

"I was on the computer and did some hunting. Not everybody died in the crash. An APB went out. I couldn't find out for who. They've hushed up on all the names."

Neil talked quick, calmly, maybe quick enough to diffuse a knee-jerk reaction from his Dad. There were times when he father could be an unreasonable asshole. Being faced with the unexpected was sometimes one of those times. Like this.

"Dad, I think that was the flight Mali was on."

Taggart stood motionless for a moment, then picked up the phone. There was one person who had access to such feeds before the 'clamp down' had come about.

Sarah.

* * *

Mali's eyes opened to the dark interior of the car.

It was hot, it stunk and she couldn't discern if the vehicle was moving or not. She felt incredibly weak. Her gaze went over the black fabric of the seats. It looked to be nighttime outside the windows. She tried to move her hands and felt them bound. She strained to hear whether or not there was any noise or talking.

In trying to sit up, Mali fell forward and her head went between the headrests of the two seats. What her eyes saw was astonishing: the two Synths were dead. The car had plunged, hood-first, into what seemed a shallow ditch. The two bodies were slumped forward in the seats. Synths didn't seem to care for safety belts.

She put her head against the middle portion a moment as a wave of weakness washed over her. She needed to get her hands free, needed to get one of the doors open, hoped like hell they were near some place habitable. She doubted that, though.

Mali slid to the driver's side and brought her hands to the door control. A few flicks and she knew they'd employed the child locks. Her voice came out as a muffled rasp:

"Motherfuckers!"

She brought her hands up to the driver's head and pushed him over toward the passenger side. The deflated airbag squished over with him. Crawled over the seat to get to the door controls. The dead Synth's stench nearly made her gag. Her fingers tried to stretch and reach for the door button. She pressed every button there until she heard the doors unlatch, sat back and pulled on the handle. A draught of cold, dry air greeted her as the door flew open. She tried to step out and wound up tumbling out onto the dusty, stony ground, hitting a low patch of scrub on the way. Laying on her side on the ground, Mali looked up at the dark shape of the car and sliver of moon in the sky. Her eyes scanned the stars: Orion and the Big Dipper were most prominent. She could also see the Milky Way for the first time in a while. Didn't need the Hubble to look at the amount of stars she saw.

Mali knew she was damn far from civilization.

Felt that she was substantially west of the Texas panhandle. She had no clear idea of exactly where in hell she was. That she was in a desert went without saying, but what damned state? Or was it even Mexico. It wouldn't have been a stretch to believe she might be in the Mexican 'Sonora' region. She rolled back to sit up and paused a moment from wooziness.

_What the fuck killed them? _

She thought as she looked at the dead Synths, slumped in their front seats. The hood and whole front end of the car was crumpled and half-buried.

They must have been plowing forward at quite a speed to dig that deep. There wasn't even a discernable road to speak of.

Mali looked again at the crumpled hood, then to her still-bound hands. Rose up on wobbly feet and went to see if there was a sharp enough edge on the metal to cut the plastic. Thankfully, they hadn't employed actual handcuffs. Finding an edge, she set to work and watched the dark edge of horizon as her feet screamed at the poking of stones, burrs and other sharp objects on the ground. The corpses would provide some badly needed clothes. She badly needed better clothes than the dirty shorts and t-shirt she wore. She hadn't been able to really do a damn thing since Chuck and Neil had gotten her to the hospital; Chuck driving like a madman and Neil making sure the wastebucket was always under her face. Gods, she'd been sick. Couldn't recall such bad illness in a long, long time. Her mind still recalled Chuck's grim profile as they sped to the hospital in Houston. Wondered if it looked like that in the Odyssey after the Earth imploded on itself.

No, she needed shielding against the blazing sun that would no doubt rise in a few hours. Needed protection from being fried to a crisp. The most major thing that bothered her was that the Synths probably carried nothing potable. Wherever they were taking her, they hadn't counted on her coming awake before they all got there. The most she could do now was scavenge clothes and see if there was anything else that was useful to take with her. Water, wherever it might be, was a paramount goal once light came to the land. Any area remotely riparian would be a benefit.

Mali heard the plastic finally snap and she turned to look into the lit interior of the car. The battery would last a few hours before it started to fizzle out. More than enough time to get ready to get the hell away from the car and its inhuman cargo. Get away and try to get back to civilization.

* * *

**December 31****st****, 2002**

**Morning **

Kurt never had the kind of friendship with Chuck and Neil where he simply let himself in when he happened to pop on by. His coming over in-person was due to the fact that he didn't feel safe talking to anybody over the phone as of late. The fact that it was still early morning didn't matter. Nonetheless, when he pressed the doorbell and Neil opened the door, he felt like he did have a valid reason for being there. He saw Neil eye him and let the door come fully open. The kid was already dressed and looking like he was getting ready to go somewhere.

"Hi Kurt."

Neil said, letting Kurt come through the door.

"Where the fuck is that Stanley thermos?"

Neil cast an ear back to his father's voice. Sounded like it came from the basement.

"In the spare room closet. Upstairs. Kurt's here."

"Fucking marvelous!"

Kurt heard Chuck's comment and didn't know if it was directed at him, or at the thermos that was playing 'hard-to-get'.

"Going somewhere?"

"Going out to El Paso. To see if we can track down where Mali might have been taken to."

Neil said, going up the stairs. The smell of carpet shampoo was still in the air.

"So I take it that the prospect of a Synth nightclub downtown being busted is of no interest to either of you?"

"Its your baby to discover."

Chuck said, coming out of the kitchen. Definitely looked like a man who could have cared less about snooping into more Synth shit when a member of their group was missing. Dismissed Kurt almost immediately.

"What makes you think that you can find her on your own?"

Kurt called up the stairs, flabbergasted that they were just booking off without hardly a word to Sarah, Angela, or him.

"Its worth a fucking try, Kurt!"

Taggart shot back. Nope, nowhere nearly in the mood to hear anything from him. 'TekNo' had definitely turned into 'TekFuckNo'.

"And how can you be sure that the military, the Army, doesn't have her hidden?"

"The Army called **us** to find out if we knew where she might have been taken, Kurt."

Neil said, coming down the stairs. Made a turn and went into the kitchen with the thermos to fill.

The _burp_ and _popple_ of the automatic coffee-maker came from the kitchen. The pot was done.

"Fine. Have a nice trip."

Kurt said, resigned that the duo wouldn't be of help. Turned and left without a further word.

Taggart barely caught sight of Kurt blasting away in his Ferrari when he came downstairs with his duffle to throw into the back of the Mustang. Mali's Glock and magazines bulged out of his jacket's deep pockets to compensate for the loss of his Grandfather's old .45 Colt.

He never got it back after the Trinity River episode, despite all his searching over the area. It was long-gone; likely by somebody who knew how to use it or sell the thing for a pretty sum of money. He didn't feel it right to try and take a sniper rifle into the grounds of any Army base, though. It was too blatant a statement of what might become a necessity in trying to find their friend. Didn't even feel remotely bad about Kurt leaving in a huff. The man would get over it. There was no damn umbilical cord that attached them both. Called back to the kitchen.

"You got your bag in the trunk?"

"Yep."

Chuck Taggart went out the door again. With luck, they would be on the road in the next ten minutes and in El Paso before mid-afternoon.

* * *

Mali didn't know why Synth bodies decomposed so damn fast, but they did. Even the clothes she wore bore the nasty scent. At least they protected her from an unshielded sun that rose- orange and angry- in the East. She'd ripped off the sleeve and back of a shirt to create a headband for her head. In younger, and dumber, days many soldiers thought it was macho to go without headcover in the burning lands of Iraq and Kuwait.. Many of the guys had the crewcuts that exposed a good portion of unprotected scalp to UV rays. Some developed skin cancer under their hair in later years. Mali had always worn her desert-pattern boonie or a black and tan _shemagh_ to protect her head and face back then. She never went out without something. Her fair skin would've went into cherry red in no time. Even then, she'd had her fair share of sunburns before getting into NASA and not having to be outdoors so much.

As it was now, at least there was something in the scavenged cloth. She'd tried to get the smallest, best-fitting pair of shoes off the corpses; ones that were two sizes too-big but her feet wouldn't get gashed up beyond repair. The shirt and pants were likewise too big, but would offer air circulation and the shirt was light colored to reflect the sun. It was fortunate that one of them did carry a pocket knife. It was an odd choice since Synths usually didn't carry weapons as their super-human strength and enormous tolerance of pain made most weapons unneeded. She could only think that one of the Synths hadn't been fully 'immersed' and still held vestiges of his former life.

Mali's eyes squinted into the distance.

Her sight seemed overexposed in the harsh land about her. Neither of the Synths had sunglasses on them. Most wore them due to the fact that Synth eyes were quite different than human ones. These two had none. The vultures already gobbled them down. Hopped on the bodies and poked but didn't seem too keen on the meat.

She slung the small pack of items from the car and made her way towards what looked to be more vegetation off to the east. If her sight was accurate, she could make the area in a few hours, before the worst of the sun and heat. She would have to get into shade before noon. The fact that there was no water in the car and none in the land about her made for pretty decisive thinking right off. Water was the first priority.

She paused to look at her right hand with its old wound from the ripped-out IV line. There was bruising under the skin, but it was healing without infection. The rest of her had a few, old cuts but nothing that looked worrisome. She could likely make it a few days; if she found something of a water source soon.

* * *

**Fort Bliss- 1502 Hours**

Having been Air Force, Chuck Taggart hadn't sniffed around Army bases much. Fort Bliss was one he'd never been to. The heightened security included having to flash his military ID while two men came behind his car with a mirror on a roller pad to scrutinize for explosives attached to the underside. On one hand, he thought it comical. On the other, he understood precisely why it was being done and was sad that it had to be that way. The proximity to the Mexican border was also a concern for the base. Nobody stationed here could ever, truly relax anymore. There were questions about weapons- non-official- and other potential hazards. All of which got a 'negative' response.

The fatigue-clad soldier who checked Taggart's ID also looked at his DoD decal on the windshield with no change to the man's professional mien.

"You might want to get your decal updated, Commander. Its pretty faded."

"I'll make a note of it."

Taggart said, as the man waved them through and waited for the next car in line to come up and get anal-probed. They had a meeting with Colonel Tyes at 1530. Evidentially, the base commander wanted to meet with them as he hadn't expressed any disapproval about Neil joining in on things. He had a good idea why that might be so and wondered if it didn't have to do with the Cadre.

* * *

Colonel Tyes was not in his office when Chuck and Neil were shown in.

The person who sat in the chair and behind the base commander's desk was somebody both of them knew from after the affair at Trinity River. The man was even more pale since they last saw him in the underground bunker. A man who really didn't get out of his office much. Still, there was no doubt that he was the farthest thing from an 'armchair general'.

General Pierce looked at the two Taggarts and wondered why he ever wanted them involved on this. Then again, who really was around Flynn the most and knew something of her habits?

The fucks on St. Mark's hated active Army almost as much as they hated Synths. Trying to get any information out of them had been an expensive waste of time and the men who'd gone hadn't enjoyed it. If those who'd gone could be called 'men' at all. The Synths were good gun fodder and that was about it.

Now his blue-grey eyes settled on the elder Taggart while his mouth allowed only the slightest curve to the straight line it normally was. His hand waved to the chairs.

"My apologies for Col. Tyes not being here. He had other business to attend to. Please sit, Commander. For security reasons, **anything** said in this room STAYS in this room. Am I clear?"

Chuck nodded. He knew better than to show any bewilderment at a prime Cadre leader being across from him. His suspicions confirmed, he took a seat and met eyes with the General. The man had a folder on the desk in front of him. What was in it was anybody's guess.

"Been around NASA lately, Commander?"

"This past week. Why?"

"It would seem that there are those who don't seem congenial towards you, no?"

Pierce said, opening the folder and drawing out a picture.

"I think you know why you were called here. No, it wasn't at Director Hodge's request either. You seem to have some affinity for Major Flynn. You know the chopper she was on crashed. _This_ is what our team found when it got to the site."

Chuck watched the man slide the photo toward him. A color picture of a charred, empty stretcher. The restraint bands curled into useless strips. He restrained himself from picking it up.

His eyes saw it well enough.

"Everybody else on that chopper crew were found. Their bodies are accounted for. The Major's is not. The stretcher was ejected from the craft- on impact- and was burned later from the rest of the wreckage."

Pierce watched emotions travel under Taggart's face. Held no doubt that the Major had made her own impact on a fellow astronaut. He doubted the Commander had no attraction to her.

Rather the opposite.

"Why did you call me here, Sir?"

"For the simple fact that you might have an idea of where the Synths might have taken her. I'm talking to you plainly because it is obvious you both are aware of their existence. Hence, there is no need to mince words."

"She was kidnapped?"

"Tire tracks leaving the sight confirm that. The crash area was too trampled and we could not get a definite fix on how many took her from the site. Humans would have taken her to a hospital, or would have called it in. There was nothing. We later heard traffic on their....wavelength that they had her. Then those transmissions stopped."

"Where do you think they took her?"

Taggart asked. Hell, he knew Mali, but he didn't know so much of her life that he would have known where she might go. For that matter, he really didn't know where the Synths might be inclined to take her.

"We are presuming West. I doubt the Synths would chance trying to go near military installations and the like. Large towns would pose their own problems too."

"They like to hide, blend in. They don't like being solitary for long."

Chuck said. His time as a near-Synth came back like a bad dream. Images of it flashed through his thoughts as he spoke.

"Just what we thought."

Pierce sat back and eyed the two men.

"We want you to help find the Major. You both know her better than many, even in the Army. You two would be 'familiar faces' to her. We have teams in the air looking for her and presume that they probably took her into the wilderness. We are supposing maybe abandoned military installations but, again, they would have to worry about discovery."

"Would they take her to Mexico?"

Neil offered, looking at his father.

"Maybe. However, the guards are on alert and know to check trunks of vehicles coming and going. I doubt that the Synths could hide a human in there and not be found out."

"You've been to the border lately, Commander?"

"No, I'd just think that would be the case for anybody going down there."

"Well, you happen to be right. At least, we seem to be thinking on the same page."

"Why are you wanting us to help you, General?"

"Its rather simple: the Major is one of the Army's own. Despite what either of you think of me since our last meeting, there are times when loyalty to one's comrades supercedes other considerations. Let's just say that if you help the Army, the Army might be inclined to help you."

"I'm Air Force, Sir."

"That you are. However, your 'usefulness' at NASA is waning, is it not?"

Pierce saw the look in Taggart's eyes. His words hit a tender spot in a man like Taggart. Many astronauts hated the day when they were 'retired' from active service. They all coveted the chances to go into space. _Age_ was the last thing any astronaut wanting in his/her way.

"I am in a position to remedy any...concerns about your _viability_ with the Agency, if you would be of assistance to us in this matter."

"And you can walk over Director Hodge to do this?"

Taggart quipped. Almost doubted that anybody could rein in the petty tyrant she'd grown into.

"Miss Hodge has her own..._masters_ she has to bow to, Commander. Just like you. Not all of those _masters_ reside in the ranks of NASA. If you catch my meaning. I would like to think you would agree to be of assistance in this matter?"

Taggart looked at Pierce and saw the man was sincere in his voice and look. Had to wonder what sort of grievance the man had with Hodge that he would actively recruit his- and Neil's- help.

"What will happen to her, if we can find her?"

"The Major is still quite ill. We know how to treat her, but she needs to be brought to a military hospital for it. You also know she has her own business at NASA. She must get back there, eventually."

"You know what is wrong with her?"

Taggart asked, saw Pierce's face grow stern.

"She's been 'inoculated'. She cannot become a Synth. That is all you can be told about the matter. The reason for that is because you wish to be of help to us, Commander."

Pierce tapped a button on the desk phone. A silent buzzer. A tall, clean-cut officer entered almost immediately.

"If you two would follow Lieutenant Carson, he will show you where you both need to proceed to next. You needn't worry about your car. You both will be brought back to Fort Bliss, no matter how things might turn out at the end."

Chuck and Neil stood and saw Pierce rise as well. They exchanged silent looks and nods before the General was left alone in the office once more. Left to the world the way he liked it.

* * *

It had taken hours to cover a few miles, under the winter sun, to even get to an area with more vegetation and some possibility of water. There had been a few birds and the temp was somewhere in the high eighties, but the sun was still stronger than it would have been in many places. That, and the constant desert wind that dried everything that had moisture to it.

Mali knew her throbbing headache was a combination of hours of walking- after going through being hellishly sick- and escaping from the people who could have cared less that she had been sick. No doubt she was getting seriously dehydrated. The option of stopping was not an option at all without shelter and some water- somewhere.

She had gotten down the steep shelf of stones and entered a far lower area from the plain she had been on for most of the day. The clothes she wore didn't stink so much now, but they were hot to wear. There had to be a place to cool down and rest. Above all, the clothes had to be retained for the cold night that would come in only a couple hours.

There had been no option to stay with the car.

It was too exposed, too hot and too subject to attract the same Plastics that had kidnapped her in the first place. They would come well before any other form of help would. From where she was, there was no civilization for miles. She knew she was in the Southwest, she just couldn't say where. It looked like the Sonora, but she couldn't be certain.

Mali walked the damp sand between the narrow crack in the stone walls. She could smell the moisture up ahead. Her eyes shut for a moment. She was dog-tired and feeling dizzy from all that she had gone through. They snapped open in time when her foot sank forward and hopped back.

From a twenty-foot drop, into an area where a small creek ran through a shallow valley. The sun was able to heat some of the place, so trees and bushes could be found. The creek itself was pretty shallow, but it was moving.

She looked about for a way down from what must be a mini-waterfall in a truly wet season; an occasional tributary to the main creek below. Finding none, she opted to take the only way down that was halfway safe: She would hang off the edge of the drop-off and fall. With luck, she would land in what looked to be the sandy bank of the creek. It wasn't much padding but it was something.

Her hands hurt to grip the stone edge and her feet dangled. Without a further thought to dissuade her, she let her grip go and went down. The momentary sense of weightlessness, before the hard landing, almost on her back, in the wet ground beside the creek. There was a stone just under her ribcage that made her wince but she was able to roll off and at least get to her knees.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked over at the clear water of the creek. Crawled over and sipped out of it a few minutes before rising to her feet.

It tasted like the rocks but it was clear and cold. Maybe some hidden snowmelt off of mostly-shaded rocks. She scooped some water over her head to wash out the heat in her hair and looked around. It wasn't a bad place. It had a few, good size junipers around. None of which looked great to camp under but there had to be a way to get under one of them. There was some dry grass further towards the opening to flatter, more sunbaked land. A padding of that would keep her off the ground for the night. Her hand went up to her shirt pocket to feel for the lighter she'd found in the glovebox of the car. It was there and had worked before. Now she could only hope it would work again; to start a fire and warm herself before night settled in.

Her ears listened to the sound of wind and silence of the rocks. If there were animals, they weren't around at present. Maybe a stray pronghorn or javelina would come later, if they didn't scent her first. The possibilities of red wolves, coyotes, or a mountain lion were things to be considered too. Especially when one had no weapons of real damaging power to a determined predator. She could only be a predator for so long as she could defend protect herself here.

* * *

**Houston**

Sarah, Kurt and Angela stepped through the door and past the yellow police tape without much trouble. The real trouble had been in finding an entrance that wasn't street-visible or given to having people seeing them try to get in. Especially as New Year's Eve celebrations were in full-swing and seeing many people in downtown Houston wasn't odd on this one, particular night.

Not that TekNo had any worries about being jammed tonight. The place had been partially torched. The trio looked about with flashlights. At times, they could see the outlines where bodies had been. Broken furniture, smashed stereo equipment, the bar's mirrored backsplash was thoroughly gone into shards. The place itself smelled of old cigarettes and spilled booze. It almost made Angela dizzy as she navigated about the stuff. Almost felt like grabbing a seat, but couldn't find any that would hold weight or were broken.

"Hey, you alright?"

Sarah asked, pausing to get abetter look at Angela's face.

Angela brought a hand to her forehead.

"I've had this crappy headache all day. No, I'm fine otherwise."

She hadn't wanted to bring up that she was 'late'. Being freed from the Synths had brought her back to Enrique. Suffice to say, she'd gotten very close to him after the event. Before Kurt came back into the picture. She knew that a pregnancy would kill her being an astronaut. There was no good way for a woman to be in that career with a child. You either gave up the child, or you gave up NASA. There was no having both. She had thought about getting an abortion. Now, she knew she would have to. Before things went much further.

Angela looked about and saw Kurt go into a back room. Distant booms from the fireworks display were heard as muffled pops inside the space.

"Well, ladies, I've found 'Toyland'. Anybody up for tube bondage?"

"In your dreams, Wild Child."

Sarah responded sarcastically.

When the three came in they saw a huge space filled with exam tables and tubing coming out of the ceiling. There were at least twenty bays.

"Holy shit! They had a major turn-over operation going here."

Angela remarked, walking about the beds. Glass shards crunched beneath her shoes.

"How much to bet the police in this town doesn't even know what its all about?"

Sarah said, looking at the dusty desks that bore traces of laptops having once sat on them.

"Shades of Detective Marsden: Incriminate now, find out the truth only when convenient later."

Kurt muttered. His flashlight made a last sweep.

"Whatever was here was for processing more 'recruits'. It still leaves us wondering where the main part went after this got smoked out."

"I doubt anybody will talk. This club was partly gang-run. At least, that's what I've uncovered."

Sarah said. The booms of fireworks became louder. She consulted her watch.

"It's fifteen minutes to New Year's."

"Any New Year's kisses will have to wait, ladies. I don't feel like fighting traffic once this party starts trying to get home."

Kurt flicked out his light. Illumination from the street was enough to get them back to the side door they had come in.

"Amen to that."

Sarah paused to look back at Angela. Looked at her and wondered if there wasn't more than just a headache at work.

* * *

**January 1****st****, 2003**

**Morning**

Mali awoke to a cold, wet nose sniffing over her then went away.

Her eyes snapped open as she heard barks, then heard a whimper or two and excited panting.

She was stiff and cold from sleeping on the grass mat, but it had kept the worst of the cold from her. She was able to raise herself on her forearms and saw two men with rifles walk up. They weren't soldiers, nor were they Synths.

She guessed they might be Apache or maybe Navajo. Each was as brown as long exposure to the sun could make them. They had none of the fairer coloring of Mexicans. They looked at her many moments, before slinging their rifles and walking up to her.

"You are lost?"

"I am. Who are you?"

"My brother and I, we were hunting here."

The tall man looked at her with a slight cock to his head.

"We were told we might find a lost soldier on our way."

"Who told you?"

Mali struggled and finally was able to sit up.

"We will take you to him. His is old and a soldier, like yourself."

The man reached out a hand to her to help her up.

She normally would not have felt like trusting anybody if it were not for the situation she found herself in. If she we left alone, she would likely die from hunger and thirst. There was not enough to sustain her to find other habitation or humans. It was a risk to go with these men, but it was death to remain here. Mali extended her hand and was pulled onto her feet.

* * *

They had gone down a highway for about three hours after forty-five minutes of dirt road. Then, had taken a semi-paved road for another hour until they came to a dirt road. The battered sign and barbed-wire fences set the boundaries of an Indian Reservation- The White Creek Agency.

Mali realized they were Navajo, but she had never heard of any White Creek reservation. They had rode in silence since leaving where she was found. She had no doubts about her being able to get away, if needed. Nor did she have doubts about the men she was riding with now. She did not see any undercurrents or ulterior motives in them. She had read enough predators and prey to know the basic natures of most people. Long hours of watching human beings going about life through the long viewing of a scope had taught her well.

The plastic bottle of water she clutched was still half-full as she dozed in the pickup's spare backseat. The dogs- there were two- rode in the bed and were laying down to stay out of the dust and wind.

After a while, she felt the truck slow and opened her eyes.

The red faces of huge cliffs greeted her. The bases looked like trees that tried to reach into the empty, blue sky. She thought a moment about the sky she caught glimpses of when riding in the space shuttle: clear and aching blue, before the absolute black of space overtook all.

Her gaze turned to the dry, sun-burnt ground. She saw mud and wood hogans in the distance.

One of the men looked back at her.

"There is phone service in town. We will leave you here, with our family."

"You could flag the Tribal Police?"

Mali said and saw the look that came over the man's face.

"Not safe. We were warned."

Mali would have dearly loved to have asked 'Warned about what?' but kept to herself.

"We will call the Army."

The other man- who had not spoken at all- said in a hard, uncompromising voice.

"If you would call the Army, then there is my commanding officer to speak to."

The man looked back at her from his driving. His hawkish nose and lean face were etched as if to stone. His eyes were black in the shade of the truck cab.

"Call General Pierce at Fort Bliss, Texas. Tell him that you have found Major Flynn."

Mali said and watched the man turn back to his driving.

There was silence for a time, until the driver spoke once more.

"So, Major Flynn, what were you doing out in the 'Devil's Highway'?"

"I was lost. Not by my own choice."

"Then by who's?"

There was a type of sarcasm in the voice that Mali was all too used to. Her mouth slightly smirked.

"People who really don't like me much."

She heard the brother of the driver speak in native tongue to his brother. Then the man looked back at her.

"White blood people?"

The driver looked back at her for a moment.

"Yes."

"They like nobody. They have been becoming more common near where you are found. They cause trouble when we try to hunt."

Mali nodded at him as they came up to three hogans and stopped. The door of one was already open and a small, very aged man stood out in front of it. His threadbare shirt, old jeans, and kerchief about his head blended with his lined face. The two brothers got out and went up to the old man. Mali flipped a lever to move the passenger seat forward and stepped out onto the sandy, hot ground. She looked again at the old man and the two brothers. They were joined by a middle-aged woman from one of the other hogans. The group spoke for a few minutes, occasionally looking at her. She finally met eyes with the woman and nodded.

The woman came up and looked at her.

"Your skin is too fair. You are very burnt. Come inside, I have ointment for your face."

Mali wanted to meet the old man but opted to follow the woman instead.

"May I ask you name?"

"My English name is Mary, Mary Sweetwater. My real name is not easy for you to pronounce."

"Are you people Navajo?"

"Yes."

The woman opened the hogan's door and stepped inside. Mali felt the coolness of the interior almost immediately.

"You are very tired. I can see it. Please sit down."

Mali took a seat and looked at the old, metal woodstove. These people chose to not accept the government housing and benefits that most tribes opted to take. They seemed more inclined to their old ways. She hadn't realized that she was still gripping her water bottle and set it on the table.

"My grandfather saw you in a vision. He felt kinship to you. He said you are a soldier like he once was."

"Where did your grandfather serve?"

"In the Pacific. He was called a 'Code Talker'."

Mary turned to her and gave her a cold, wet rag to wash her face with.

Mali dabbed at her face and watched the dust and dirt come off on the cloth. Gods, but she was filthy. She felt odd at having somebody helping her like this. She was too used to doing things alone. When she was done, she laid the dirty rag back on the table.

"I would thank him for his service."

Mary looked out the hogan's door. Heard her family speaking in their native tongue.

"Our people are not used to women as soldiers. Women are to be mothers and care-takers. Men like my grandfather have a bit of a hard time understanding women. He was very shocked to see you in his vision. It is not normal for a shaman to see such things. He knew you were a soldier before his son-in-laws told him who you were."

Mali saw Mary look at her with the 'You aren't Christian, are you?' look. She never had a problem with anybody over religion. Not even when she was in the Gulf.

"There were times where I couldn't believe I was who I was, Ms. Sweetwater."

"Call me Mary."

The woman took another chair and dipped her fingers into a small jar of a cream.

"This will help heal your skin. Just work in what I dab. I don't want to hurt your face anymore. Its quite red."

Mary daubed on two patches of the cream and stood up.

"Grandfather will talk to you, later. It might take some time for your people to get here. They have to speak with the Tribal authorities. It was alright for my husband and brother to bring you here, but its not so easy for outsiders to come in to take somebody away."

* * *

**Five Hours Later-**

It had been a long time since Taggart rode in a chopper. The short hop from the base to the crash site had been one. Then the Border Patrol found the car and the chopper carried them back to Ft. Bliss. The smell of rotting, Synth bodies was nothing compared to what more was found; the location of a Synth hive deep in the desert that the car's GPS had stored inside. It seemed that even Synths needed help to find places and Neil had gotten a very good look at the map before Army men shooed them away and took the entire device out.

He knew Neil was sucking this up. Sometimes he forgot that his son was an astronaut like he. It was sometimes hard for him to say how proud he was that the kid had no problems about tagging with him on shit like this. Then again, the Seeker had brought that all about. Had given them all the chance they wouldn't otherwise have had.

That the car had been found deep in the southern, Arizona desert did not fill him with optimism. The reports stated that two Synths had been found in the car and Flynn was gone. According to the initial report, she had scavenged clothes off the bodies and set out on foot. Rather than be baked alive by triple-digit temperatures that would boil your brains. The area was one illegals routinely went into and very rarely came out of- alive.

The Border Patrol had already started sweeps of the area. They were able to follow her footsteps pretty well, given the fact that some time had passed. There was still hope.

Now Taggart and Neil sat in Colonel Tye's office and listened as the General himself put fires under subordinate asses to get shit moving. He had to give it to Pierce; the man was a bulldog about finding a lost soldier. Whoever was on the other end was having a shitstorm coming their way.

"Have them coordinate with our boys there. The Major would have tried to locate a riparian area to seek water and shade."

General Pierce frowned as he spoke into the phone. The people on the other end were severely trying his patience. They seemed to be of the opinion that people like her just walked around aimlessly, like they wanted to die in the middle of a hell-baked shithole. Likely moreso because she had tits.

"It is where any experienced soldier would go, Lieutenant! She's served in the Mideast! I seriously doubt she would try staying exposed, wouldn't you? Let me know what you find."

No sooner had Pierce put the phone down than it rung again.

"Pierce."

Chuck and Neil saw the man's face turn serious.

"Really? Where?"

Pierce said and started to scribble something on paper.

"They found her."

Taggart muttered to Neil.

"Not where they thought she would be, Dad."

Neil watched Pierce's eyes flicker over at him. The man had damn good hearing, even when another voice was talking in his other ear.

"Yes. Do what it takes to get her out of there and get her back to Fort Bliss. No, I don't have a problem with that. The Government will cover any expenses associated with this affair."

Pierce looked at Taggart and handed him the piece of paper.

The jagged scrawl read simply: 'White Creek Reservation, AZ.'

"Indians found her."

Neil said, reading the slip in his father's hand.

"Navajos. But they are one hell of a ways from where the car was found. That reservation is in the eastern part of the state."

Taggart saw Pierce hang up the phone.

"That is correct. Tribal authorities have already taken her to the local medical center. An Army helo will be there within the hour to bring her back here. Without any crashes this time. She is sunburnt, but unharmed."

Pierce seemed relieved that the situation was done with. When he looked at the two Taggarts he knew they were no longer needed. He couldn't say the same about the future.

"What I would like you both to do is go back to Houston now. Inform Director Hodge of what has occurred and let her know the Major will be fit for duty soon."

"And why do you think I should be the one to do this?"

"Because, Commander Taggart, I would _like_ you to do so. The good Director might be more favorably _inclined_ towards you for doing so. Let's also say that you need some help in the area of getting back into space, no? This action will greatly assist you in doing just that."

"I see your point."

"Don't worry about Madam Director. Let us just say that you and your son have been of a great help to us. Even if it seems like what you two did was minimal to the both of you."

Pierce pressed a button and a Captain appeared in the doorway.

"I think you gentlemen had best leave now. Stop by the base pumps and get some gas for the trip home. It's on us, for help rendered."

Taggart knew better than to prolong their exit. He had enough time in that when a General told you to leave, you left. He rose to his feet and stood at attention a moment before turning, guiding Neil from the office and shutting the door behind them.

* * *

Out in the parking lot, Taggart looked back at the huge, distant building of the medical center.

He drew out a cigar and lit it. Took a few puffs as an aircraft flew over the base. The thundering rumble echoed off the government buildings all about them.

"He wanted us gone pretty damn quick."

Neil sighed, getting in. The hot seats made him glad for the shirt and jeans he was wearing.

"If there's anything about the military, they have their own ways of doing things. We aren't technically part of their world, or this issue, anymore. They'll send her back in a few days. As soon as she's cleared and debriefed. They don't need us around for that."

Taggart got in and turned the engine over.

"Hell, at least we got free chopper rides, sightseeing, and some useful info to take back. Also got a free tank of gas..wherever the damn pumps are in this place."

The blue Mustang pulled from its spot and went on another, short trip about the base in search of enough fuel to get back to Houston on.

* * *

"Major, what do you recall about your captivity?"

"Not one hell of a lot. I knew I was being taken someplace, but I was too damn sick to do much of anything about it. At least, not until I had recovered some of my faculties. That happened after I woke up in the car, out in Arizona."

Mali sat in the chair. She felt a bit wobbly, from the medicines she'd been given. Would be grateful for the bed she would get once this 'debriefing' was done. The two men she was talking to were MILINTEL types and not very forthcoming with anything about themselves. Not that she had expected them to be.

"Had you ever met the Navajos who rescued you out of the desert before?"

"No, sir."

The two men looked at each other. As if she'd said something questionable. Rather than be curious about their reaction, Mali reacted not at all. She had spoken the truth. The family were people she'd never met before. Even if they too had stories of the 'white blood people' to tell.

"Major, at any time while you were captured by the Synthetics, did you divulge that you were a Cadre member or the aims of the Cadre?"

"No, sir."

"Not at all?"

"Never."

Mali said, her voice clipped.

"As stated before, I was too damn sick and they kept me knocked out for a great portion of that trip."

She watched one of the men walk off into a far corner of the room and talk into the headset mic he wore. After a minute, another man came in. He wore a doctor's lab coat and carried a towel-covered tray.

"We need a blood sample from you at this time. To ensure that you are not under any type of drugs or other agents. There is always a risk they injected you during your captivity."

Mali rolled up her sleeve and offered her arm. With any luck, things would be over shortly and she could get some badly-needed sleep.

* * *

**January 16****th****, 2003**

Chuck Taggart came back to a quiet house. Neil was in school. The kid had to really buckle down now. There was no way he could falter in his studies. Unlike the past, Neil went to school now without even the slightest bitch. He knew what was happening at the JSC, but he could watch the footage tonight when he got home.

Coming home from the JSC had been, on the surface, a routine affair. Chuck been at the center for hours, watching the liftoff of **Columbia** for its fateful mission into space. Wondered exactly when the piece of foam had knocked the tiles off during liftoff. Exposed the gap that would wind up incinerating the entire crew upon reentry.

He'd been wanting to say something. Should damn well be saying something. Still, he doubted that Hodge would cotton to him talking to her about safety with shuttle crews. He was still at the bottom of the pecking order in some ways. Especially with Ed gone now.

Thus, as he trudged up the steps to change out of his business suit, **Columbia**'s launch was still on his mind. As he crested the stairs and saw the first door on the left shut..

A smile came to his lips. It was then that he felt the day's events ebb from him. He had not heard from her for nearly two weeks and had debated whether or not to call Fort Bliss and enquire about her. He worried about why they were detaining her so long. It was clear they had inoculated her, as Kurt had proposed. Perhaps it was a test for a new policy within the Agency that all astronauts would have to be protected against becoming Synths. Or, maybe, perhaps only those who might be given command positions. He knew he couldn't talk about it, but he felt glad that she could never suffer the same fate as had befallen Paige, Mark, and Penny. That she would always be human.

Gripping the doorknob, he slowly turned it and cracked the door. His eyes caught a glimpse of a form under the sheets. A head of short, gold hair on a pillow. The soft sound of her breathing barely audible. The drapes on the window shut against the afternoon sun. Her duffle bag at the foot of her bed. She had been quite ready to get to sleep once she'd gotten back.

Being asleep now wasn't uncommon for somebody just out of the hospital. Either that, or they had her working like a dog to get back to a condition to be discharged. There would be time later to find out what had happened.

One thing he did know, Hodge was hot to get Flynn into training for the upcoming ISS mission. While she might not have been happy to take being informed by Taggart, she had to like it anyway or suffer with being left in the dark. Even the Cadre could play tit-for-tat with each other, from time to time.

Taggart smiled and brought the door shut again with the slightest click. Continued walking to his bedroom with a near-silent tread.

**Columbia**'s crew would not return alive. At least, however, the 'Odyssey Six' was intact once more.


End file.
